


you got me sprung (i don’t care who sees)

by aceofdiamonds



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sansa wasn't aware she was dating jon but yes, actually, that sounds about right. </p>
<p>“Hey, Jon,” Arya pipes up, waves. “Hear you’ve been dating my sister.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got me sprung (i don’t care who sees)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very loose sequel to hold on to spinning around, the one with the ceilidh, but it only refers to it very briefly. title is from crazy in love.

For all the time he’s spent at their house over the years, Jon has always been Robb’s friend. He has been pleasant and has spent time with the rest of the Starks but it is always Robb’s room he heads for when he arrives, to burrow away and do whatever boys do with their explosions and their messy games. Arya, Bran and Rickon occasionally got brought into their fold but Sansa, different in every way, had stayed back, and that had been fine — It wasn’t as if Jon was the second coming or anything like that. 

Recently, though, and this is very recently, Jon has become Sansa’s friend as well. It had started with gentle understanding and small chats about Joffrey, who Sansa escaped from, and Ygritte, who ran from Jon, and it has grown into shared jokes and long-winded debates about Hogwarts houses and the Bartlet versus the Santos administration's that end in so much laughter Sansa’s stomach hurts and no stable conclusion. 

They don’t keep it secret, this new branch of friendship, but they have been keeping it away from the house as much as possible. Robb and Arya have a tendency to get jealous, Bran likes to analyse everything, and Rickon, well, Rickon just wants to play. So Sansa says she’s going out for a coffee with friends from uni and Dad makes the occasional comment that Jon hasn’t been over as much recently to which Robb says that he’s been busy with no further explanation. 

So, yes, if it comes down to it, they’re keeping it a secret. 

  
  


.

  
  


Sansa and Arya are sprawled out on Sansa’s bed late one afternoon listening to music when the door goes and their mum is calling up the stairs. 

“Jon’s here!” 

Sansa nudges the volume of her CD player with her toe, Haim fading into the background as they listen to Robb’s reply and then Catelyn’s answer.

“No, he says he's here to see Sansa.” 

Sansa can tell from the lilt in her voice that she’s feeling the same way that Arya is when she twists her head away from her magazine  to stare at Sansa. “Why’s Jon here for you?” 

“So everyone else is allowed to be friends with him apart from me?” Sansa asks, rolling off the bed and over to the mirror. “Chuck me that lipstick, will you?” 

“Lipstick?” Arya repeats, throwing it over. “For Jon?”

“When was the last time you saw me leave the house without lipstick on, Arya?” 

This is conceded as a good point. Arya hands her a brush and then the denim jacket she asks for. “Does Robb know?” 

“We’re not doing anything,” Sansa says, twisting her hair into a pleat before slipping her shoes on. “After the ceilidh we got talking and we realised we actually have a lot in common so why not hang out a bit more?” 

“And it’s going well so far?” Arya hops off the bed, follows Sansa into the hall where Bran and Robb are sticking their heads out of their doors. “Sansa and Jon are secret friends,” Arya tells them. 

“Stop that, Arya,” Sansa says, swinging her head so it hits Arya’s hip. “Stop making it more than it is.” She chances a glance at Robb, waits for something about stealing his friend, because it’s true, she has been spending more time with Jon recently and obviously that time is going to cut into Jon’s time with Robb. 

But all Robb does is fold his arms and say in a serious voice that he has Sansa’s best interests at heart, even if they are with his best friend, thanks very much for that, sis. 

“We’re just friends,” Sansa insists, appealing to Bran for support who rolls his eyes and says nothing. “Jon,” she calls down the stairs. “I’m just coming.” 

“Okay, Sansa,” and then he appears at the bottom of the stairs which makes everything ten times worse.

“Hey, Jon,” Arya pipes up, waves. “Hear you’ve been dating my sister.” 

“We’ve not —“ Sansa tries. 

“Caught on, have you?” Jon replies and then he grins, catches Sansa’s eye, and okay, yes, they’ve been dating. Now she looks back on it there have been a lot of cosy corners and slightly flirtatious looks and yes, fine, when Sansa is with Jon she feels so happy she could float up up up away which is not an altogether unpleasant feeling. She thinks she’d like to do more of that, in a more official and open basis. 

“Yes,” she says, beaming at Jon. “We’re dating.” 

Jon swings a little around the bannister, still grinning, and when Sansa goes down the last few steps to meet him he takes hold of her hand, just for a moment, before stepping away and opening up the front door for her.

“Have her back by midnight,” Robb shouts, garbled additions coming from Arya and Bran. 

“Maybe I fancy turning into a pumpkin tonight,” Sansa shouts back, the door clicking shut on their reply. 

“You’ve got the hair for it,” Jon says, laughing and ducking away from the presumed hit but Sansa is still floating up there on cloud nine as she leads them down the path to the pavement. How nice is this? Not even realising that you have feelings for someone until you’re so many weeks into your relationship? It all feels so wonderfully natural and easy that Sansa has the urge to shout advice from the rooftops — look around you, everyone, you might have the perfect person sitting across the hall playing video games with your brother. Okay, that’s a little specific but it’s true. 

“Don’t make fun of my hair,” she says now, faux-pouty, flipping it over her shoulder. Then she pauses, turns back to him with a grin. “‘Specially not now when I know how much you loooooove it.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

“You do. Tell me, Jon, how long have you spent thinking about tangling your fingers in my hair? How long have you wanted to smell my long, shiny hair?” 

“You’re a piece of work, Sansa Stark,” Jon replies, but he gives it back as good as he’s got. “I suppose about the same amount of time you’ve spent wondering how big my muscles really are.” That startles her into a laugh but she cocks her head, considers them through his shirt.

“Impressive, Snow,” she says, starting to reach out to feel his arm before pulling back. Everything’s shifted a little now that feelings are on the table. Everything feels that little bit more. “I’ve been thinking,” she adds, pulling thoughts she’s been having lately and why she’s not as surprised by this new development. “Ghost likes me.”

“Ghost likes you.” 

“And isn’t that what all the magazines say? If his dog likes you, that’s it, you’re in?” 

They stop walking just as they pass the park. Jon takes a step forward and then turns so he’s facing Sansa. “You’re really funny, Sansa,” he says. “You’re kind and beautiful and you know more swear words than me and you make me dance at ceilidhs because you know I secretly love them and you love The West Wing and --”

“And you’re secretly romantic and you keep quiet during my favourite films and you let me choose the music in your car and you’re so funny and so hot I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep my hands to myself, honestly,” Sansa finishes for him, stepping in close. 

“Us romantics need to stick together,” Jon says, voice quiet. She loves him like this, soft and secret and everything focused on her.

“That’s how it works in the films,” she whispers back. It’s sunny, the street is busy, the cars passing by are loud, but Sansa likes where they are, tucked in at the side of the pavement, the fence a cover beside them. A perfect setting for a moment like this. “You gonna kiss me, Jon?” 

He grins, eyes twinkling, opens his mouth to shoot off some mouthy remark but then he thinks better of it and leans in, his mouth catching hers gently. Sansa’s hand reaches up to curve his cheek, the burr of his beard warm under her palm, and she opens her mouth slightly, pushes into the kiss. 

Jon pauses, leans back, and Sansa opens her eyes to see his eyelashes flutter when he closes his. She watches him take a breath, like he’s been waiting for this for ages and as to take a second to make it perfect, and then he ducks back in.

Their mouths move slowly, easily, getting the feel of each other, making themselves at home. As first kisses go it slides right into the top spot. The rest of the list is left in the dust when Sansa pulls away and Jon rests his forehead on hers, his hands steady on her waist, holding her up as she replays the last few moments over and over with veils of giddy afterglows. 

“So,” she says, keeping her voice low to match the atmosphere. “That was pretty spectacular.”

“Spectacular?”

“It means good,” she teases, laughing when he squeezes her waist.

“I was surprised at the word, that’s all. My vocabulary is spectacular.”

“Robb never told me how funny you are,” Sansa blurts out because it’s true. Sure she’s spent snippets of time with Jon throughout their childhood but it was always by Robb’s side, following Robb’s lead, mostly keeping to himself the rest of the time. It’s not a different Jon she’s been spending time with these last few weeks but it’s one she wishes she had got the chance to known a few years earlier, if such regrets can be made in a moment like this. “I really like you, Jon,” returning to that moment before the kiss where everything was spilled into the open.

“I really like you, too,” he replies and then he kisses her because he’s watched all the romantic comedies, he knows his timing. This kiss is even better than the first one, no more orientating themselves, delving into everything they want and what’s to come. “And to think we didn’t even realise we were dating.” 

“Idiots.” Sansa pokes his nose then taps her own. “What idiots.” 

“What happens now?” 

“Now --” Sansa lifts her arm up so her wrist is level with Jon’s head. “ _ Now _ we go the film that’s starting in five minutes because you know I’ve been waiting to see it forever and later I’ll come over to your place and we’ll --” She breaks off into laughs. “-- maybe we’ll blow our minds a little more with some more spectacular things and then tomorrow --” a giggle bursts from her and climbs into a shriek when Jon slides his hand under her jacket, fingers hot and jumpy on the skin exposed between her top and her skirt. “Let me finish, Jon,” she tries, wriggling and ending up closer. She feels his huff of laughter hit her cheek. “Hmm, tomorrow -- we’ll see what happens then, okay? But I have a feeling whatever happens it’ll be good.” 

“And tonight?” Jon asks, disentangling their bodies so they can at least make the first ten minutes of the film. 

“I believe in facts, Jon.” Sansa takes Jon’s hand, slides her fingers through his. “You and I are good together. Tonight’s going to be great and tomorrow’s going to be even better.” 

With this she slides her sunglasses onto her nose and tips her head towards the late afternoon sun. She misses Jon’s face when he turns to her with a look that confirms everything she’s just said. 

“Do you remember the night of your dad’s ceilidh? When you and I went for chips after?”

“Of course,” Sansa replies. That had been the night this had all rolled into motion with vodka and clumsy dancing and Jon showing off his best sides. He had given her a cokey-back all the way down into the town for chips and at the end of the night he had walked her to her door and they had both said how nice it would be to see more of each other. She supposes she should’ve guessed how it would all turn out from that. “Why?” 

But Jon just shrugs. “I’m glad it happened that way.” 

Sansa nudges him, squeezes his hand tighter. “Wasn’t I right about the best chips in town?” 

“You were.” 

“I’m going to be right about this too.” 

 

.

 

What happens is this: they leave the film halfway through because they're both very sensible people but there's something so exciting and distracting about creating a new relationship with someone. They leave after Sansa snorts with laughter at something Jon whispers in her ear and they realise they haven't paid attention to anything on screen. Sansa hates those people that come to the cinema and spend the whole time talking and so they leave, hands clamped to mouths to hold into the laughter that explodes when they reach the lobby. 

They go back to Jon's where Ghost greets them enthusiastically and then they close the bedroom door and they fall into bed and see? Sansa was so right. She knew this was going to be great, she said and she said and Jon kisses her again and again, half because he can't hold himself back and half because she won't stop talking talking talking. 

In the middle of summer it doesn't get dark until almost eleven. Afterwards, they lie on Jon's bed and watch the sun slowly bleed from the sky, the indigos and pale blues mixing with reds and pinks until they blink and all of a sudden it's dark. Here, in Jon's bed, her body resting beside his, Sansa thinks that she's never felt happier. This will change as their relationship builds and they find they have handfuls of these moments to pick as their favourite but for right now Sansa lies and counts all her lucky stars that things have worked out the way they have. 

"When you came round earlier did you mean to tell Arya?" she asks when it's been quiet for a while. "About us?" 

"Keeping secrets meant losing time," Jon mumbles, half-asleep. "Wanted to be with you." 

Sansa rests her hand on his chest. "I wish we'd known we were dating all of this time." With her hand where it is she can feel Jon tense slightly. "Oh. Jon, is this how you saw it the whole time?" 

"I wasn't pretending to date you in my head while we were hanging out, if that's what you're thinking," he says. When she raises her head she meets his eyes. "But yeah, I've liked you for a while."

"I took my time, didn't I?"

Jon drops a kiss on her head; she copies this with a kiss on his chest. "We're here now." 

"Thank you," she says. "For saying something. I'm so happy." 

Jon says nothing to this, just rolls slightly to close the inches between them. It's a hot night, clammy, their skins sticky with sweat, but Sansa doesn't move away. She thinks this might be what happiness feels like.  

 


End file.
